


red herring

by wan (kuro49)



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: M/M, Manipulation, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9498191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/wan
Summary: The boy has an awful smile.Or the one where Jean sets the fires (and, Nino adds the gasoline).





	

**Author's Note:**

> ik this isn't about to happen but i want jean to be bad.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE*** [the talented!!!!dahllm on tumblr made the most beautiful art for this fic, click to see the comic for part 1 and 2 in its entirety and give it all the love!!!](http://dahllm.tumblr.com/post/159923764417) i still cannot imagine how i lucked out but bless bad!jean. :DD

 

i.

The crow takes flight after you.

You don't slow down.

 

ii.

You are in Famasu, in Jumoku, in Suitsu.

He comes to you like you are his magnetic north. Sometimes he makes contact, sometimes he does not.

But the shutter always goes off and you have to wonder whether he is bored at all. You are on the balcony, watching the ashes fall. You are waiting for him in a little hole in the wall place that serves beer he tells you is something of a specialty in the region.  You are outside, the taste of nicotine feeling thick and heavy in your lungs with the rain, and you imagine he is seeing this too when the splash from a particularly well placed tear in the awning above you catches you on your cheek.

You play right into his hands, know the rough pads of his fingers against your skin and smile into the crook of his neck before you are biting down. Nino lets you because he doesn't know how to tell you _no_ , tilts his head to the side for you to bite down harder even as a soft wince escapes from between his teeth and you find the guilt fading fast unlike the imprint you will leave.

You want to know but you never ask the reason for his surveillance.

The clatter of his dark glasses against the floor is loud. You don't leave him with the time to retrieve them. Instead, you lean back.

When you motion to have him come in closer, his mouth to meet yours in a collision, he follows in that way he does and you know he is willing to die for you.

 

iii.

That song from the record store is playing inside of your head, and you're an hour, two hours late coming home. Dinner ruined too when you agreed to his invitation for cake.

You are fifteen years old and you find yourself thinking you had fun.

Lotta would be asking you a few choice questions if she isn't already staring, wide-eyed, at the boy following behind you. She sticks to one instead, a grin beginning to spread across her face like a wild fire. "A friend?"

"A classmate," you answer even if you know it isn't quite just that.

"Nino." He makes his own introductions without pause, like he hears the implications even if you don't say it out loud. How there is more even in so little. He offers up the small box in his hands and tells your sister. "We brought cake."

He fits seamlessly, and here is where the problem lies. There is collateral damage to this kind of fun.

 

iv.

You win him over. He wins her over.

It is retribution. You think about this now and know that it is only fair.

 

v.

You, Jean Otus, start the first fire for a very simple reason.

You want to give Nino a reason for the surveillance (and if a coup d'etat is in works, like those rumors suggest, you can most definitely put yourself right in its way). The smoke is black and thick and reeks without the taste of tobacco laced into each breath. Your lighter feels a little bit lighter in the palm of your hand.

The two of you meet up, and he laughs in just the same way when you complain about the increased inspection trips over drinks now that you are back in town. He reaches over, you don't pull back. You give him one more secret to add to the burning pile when you down the last of the alcohol in the glass. You peer at him, you smile at him and you have to think that it must be a pretty awful one.

You do not stop at the first fire.

He has to know he is adding the gasoline to it all. You can admit this to yourself when he has fallen asleep in your bed, the bruises in the shape of your lips decorating the insides of his thighs, you want to know where Nino will draw the line with you on the other side.

 

vi.

You light up another cigarette, he looks down another lens. The shutter goes off, the first lungful you let out dissipates. He does not stop you.

And you have to think, you might be selfish, but you don't mind if he never looks at anyone else quite like how he looks at you again.

 


End file.
